Death Sentence: A Tale of Corruption
by undeadstoryteller
Summary: Complete! Death Sentence fanfic. Jessica Wallis is a well-meaning, if rather inept, Detective. Or is there more to the story? Runs parallel to the events in the Unrated version of the movie. Rated T for language and mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

Detective Wallis fidgeted nervously with her pen. She was sitting in the observation room, watching another Detective, Baker, interrogate Joe Darley. She could think of a million places she'd rather be.

"You killed the kid," Baker said, pacing in front of Joe, seated at a table. "Slashed his throat with a machete in cold blood."

"Wasn't me," Joe said.

"We have an eyewitness, you know," Baker said. "The kid's father saw your face. You know he did." He leaned over the table. "All we want is a confession, to make everyone's life easier."

"Wasn't me," Joe repeated.

"Your brother Billy was there, too, wasn't he?"

Wallis shifted in her seat.

Joe glared at Baker. "My brother who?"

"Was he the one who pulled the trigger on the clerk? Because that seems like something he'd do." Baker'd had an eye on the Darley family for years.

"My brother is six years old, sir," Joe said.

"Your older brother."

"Steve?" Joe smiled.

Baker looked like he was about to rear back and punch Joe. "You don't have a brother 'Steve,'" he said. "You think we don't know all about your whole fucking family? You quit playing dumb, or you're going away for a long fucking time. You want the needle, Joe, because that's what you'll get if you don't talk." It was a load of crap, but it was occasionally effective.

"You want to know about Billy?" Joe said, turning his head and glancing into the two way mirror, somehow straight into Wallis's eyes. "Why don't you ask your Detective Wallis?"

Joe's gaze was fixed on Wallis's.

_He can't see me_, she thought. _There's no way._ She looked away.

The Officer beside her, McKenna, shook his head. "Don't let him get to you," he said. "He's just trying to fuck with your head."

She nodded. "I know he is," she said.

--

Baker leaned against the doorway of Wallis's office. She looked busy.

"Paperwork?" he said.

She nodded, without looking at him. "Yes," she said. "A lot of paperwork."

He took a sip out of his paper cup. "That Darley kid is a piece of work. He knows he did it, it was a classic gang initiation." He paused. "He seems to know you."

She looked at him. "Of course he knows who I am. I've been on the gang unit for four years. I've dealt with the Darleys more than once."

"Right," Baker said. "He hates the hell out of you. Trying to screw with your mind like that."

"Well," she said, shuffling papers, "it's all part of the job."

"Sure is," he said. He crushed his cup in his fist and lobbed it into the wastebasket by her desk. "Two points," he said, smiling. His smile faded. "So, was he?"

"What?"

"Just screwing with your mind?"

She turned to him. "What are you trying to say, Baker?"

"I'm a Detective," he said.

"So am I," she said.

"Gang activity hasn't gotten better since you've been on it, Jessica. It's gotten worse."

"And that's my fault?"

"Not necessarily." He shrugged. "It's just kind of interesting. I didn't realize that you grew up in the same neighborhood as the Darleys."

Wallis stood up. "Yes," she said. "I worked my way off of the 'mean streets.' I went to college. I became a cop. Because I wanted to clean up that neighborhood."

"Your brother was seriously injured in a gang war in 1992," Baker said. "Is that why?"

"Partly why, yes," she said.

"You must have been pretty close to them. The gangs."

"If you want to say that."

"You spent time in Escovido," he said. A nearby youth detention school for girls.

"You've been researching my past?"

"I'm a Detective," he said.

She nodded. "I was a troubled kid, yes. But I changed."

"You've changed," he said. "It's funny, though..."

"What's 'funny'?"

"I've been at this for eleven years. I've seen a lot of scared little girls who wanted to get out. They wanted to make the world a better place. 'Clean up the neighborhood.' I tried to help a few myself. Every one of them wound up dead at the bottom of the river. Every one who didn't fall in line."

"So?"

"So," Baker said, looking into her eyes. "Why are you alive?"


	2. Chapter 2

Detective Wallis stepped off the bus, onto familiar territory. The chop shop was a couple of blocks away. She walked quickly – the sun was starting to set, and she didn't feel like walking the streets after dark, not even with her police-issue handgun holstered at her side.

The shop gave her the creeps, even after all this time. So did Bones, who was waiting for her at his desk.

"Miss Wallis," Bones said, without looking up from the rifle he was cleaning.

Ordinarily, she would have corrected him. She wasn't a "miss," and she found the title degrading. She was a Detective. But she didn't want to get into semantics with him.

"Hello, Bones," she said flatly.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

She sighed, annoyed. "You know what brings me here."

He looked up at her and smiled. "Of course," he said. He pushed himself back in his chair with a groan, and pulled open a desk drawer. He thumbed through a stack of manila envelopes.

"These kids, you know, they're screwing me again," he said. "I'm making shit here, myself."

"Not my problem," she said.

Bones pulled an envelope out and checked the contents. "They're probably skimming, too, the little shits." He folded the envelope over and handed it to her.

She tucked it into her purse. "They've had their corners to themselves for months now, no busts."

"Well, not until yesterday."

Wallis crossed her arms. "I can't stop your boy from being hauled in for murder, when he's left half-dead at the scene and the victim's father sees his face. You don't pay me to keep them from being stupid."

Bones grinned, and looked skyward. "If only I could. You'd really be worth something to me then."

Wallis nodded, her thoughts turning momentarily to the night that was creeping over them, then back to Joe. "They're pushing hard to have him put away. The father wants a Life Sentence. Maybe even the Death Penalty -"

"Won't happen," Bones said. "Not in this town."

"No, it won't," Wallis said. "but he's... there's something in his eyes. He – the father – isn't going to make it easy."

Bones shrugged, and resumed cleaning his rifle. "Joey can stand to do a couple years in the Pen. Maybe it'll give him a chance not to wind up like his brother." He paused. "Though I've pretty much given up on that."

"Maybe Joe just wants to be like you as much as Billy does."

Bones didn't flinch. "I don't kill people," he said. "Not this random killing shit, I mean. That ain't the way I operate. I'm a serious businessman." He sniffed. "You try and raise your boys to have respect, and they run around like fucking animals. Billy can barely put two and two together -"

"That's not true."

"Billy," he repeated, "can barely put two and two together. He'd be dead without me. How long do you think he'd survive without me?"

She paused. "I don't know."

"Maybe ten fucking minutes."

She shook her head lightly. "Well, I didn't come here to argue about Billy."

"He may have convinced you he's something he's not -"

"He hasn't -"

She cut herself off. "All I'm saying is, you could maybe not treat him like garbage -"

"He _is_ garbage."

"Well, then, Bones, he's gonna keep acting like garbage, and there's nothing I can do to save your business." She tucked her purse under her arm and turned to leave.

"I'll see you next month, then." Bones said.

She nodded. "Same time, same place."


	3. Chapter 3

"Nasty day out." Detective Baker was leaning against Wallis's office doorway. Again.

"You want to talk about the weather, Baker?"

"Not really," he said. "I talked to Michael Behring today."

She tensed up. Behring was the Assistant DA representing the Humes, and about as easy to manipulate as a block of clay. One of the weakest. Wallis had been pleased to see he had been assigned the Hume case.

She looked at Baker. "Why were you talking to Behring?"

Baker ignored her question. "He says he plans to push for a deal. Three to five years."

"I really don't know what he plans to do," she lied.

"Three to five years? The goddam father saw his face," he said with disgust.

"Maybe you should be a trail lawyer," she said dryly.

Baker looked over his shoulder, and shut the door. He pointed at her.

"Maybe _you_ should be off this case, Wallis. What happened to the knife?"

"The knife."

"The murder weapon, Wallis."

"It wasn't found."

"Just disappeared?"

Wallis rolled her eyes. "Obviously, it didn't _disappear_."

"What did you do with it?"

"You can leave now, Baker."

"Where is the blood evidence, Wallis? Where is the fucking blood evidence?"

Wallis went for the door, then stopped, and looked at him. "Do you have anything, anything at all to back up your wild conspiracy theories? Because making false accusations is a serious -"

"I just want you off this case," Baker said.

"Look," she said. "Behring is a coward. He's been beaten down too many times by defense attorneys who get the jury to feel sorry for a piece of shit who kills in cold blood. I don't like the deal either. I'm meeting with him and Mr. Hume on Monday, and I promise you, I won't be pushing the deal on Hume."

"A deal shouldn't even be on the table. Nobody's advocating for this family."

"I'm advocating for them."

Baker grabbed the doorknob, and jerked the door open. "I don't believe you," he said. "If you want me to stop with my 'wild conspiracy theories,' you'd better start proving that you are."

--

Wallis trudged towards her apartment building, a comfortable place for a single woman, halfway across town from the old neighborhood. Nasty weather was right. She thought of the Humes, huddled together, under sheets of rain, as their son was buried earlier in the day. She didn't envy them – and yet, she did. A family would be nice.

She stepped into the front hall, shaking the water off her umbrella. Unlocked her mailbox. Nothing but junk.

Her cellphone buzzed as she entered her apartment. Aside from two days' worth of breakfast dishes sitting unwashed in the sink, it was well kept. She glanced at the number. "Shit," she said out loud, and flipped the phone open.

"What?" she said into the receiver, pulling off her wet shoes with one hand. "I told you not to call me. If I have something to tell you, I'll tell you." She straightened up, listening to the voice on the other end. "I told you... I told you, this DA is weak, he can't handle being taken on by a bleeding-heart defender like Bumstead..." She sighed. "He's gonna offer a deal – look, I don't want to talk about this right now, I just got home. I just want to take a hot bath." She pulled her hair out of its ponytail as she walked to the bathroom, the phone still on her ear. "No... no, not tonight... I have a lot on my mind – listen, I'll talk to you tomorrow." She clapped the phone shut, and tossed it on the floor.

She started filling the tub and undressed, relieved to be getting out of her wet clothes. Tattoos marked her arms, her back, her chest; symbols of a past she had never fully left behind. Co-workers often teased her about her conservative way of dressing, even in high summer. She told them she was old-fashioned that way. A name was scrawled on her left breast in an overly-fancy script. _Billy_. It almost assured that she would never be touched by any other man, yet she refused to have it covered.

Her phone began to buzz again, the vibration making it bobble on the tile floor. She looked at the number, the same as before, and considered answering it and letting him come and relieve her loneliness for a few moments, before shutting off its power tossing it into the hallway.

All she wanted was a hot bath.


	4. Chapter 4

She took a drag off her cigarette and leaned her head back on the tub. The hot water felt better than anything she could imagine at that moment. Relaxed, for once, her mind wandered, memories that seem like better days now, but looked like they couldn't get any worse at the time.

She remembered Billy, it must have been 1993. Greasy brown hair, thin as a rail. Nearly sixteen, and still not in high school yet. He was younger than she was, by about a year, and she loved to tease him - "Skinny Darley," she called him. She didn't fear him, not at fifteen. They said he'd killed some kid outright over a Sega console, but she didn't believe it. As it turned out, it wasn't true. The kid lived, after a few weeks in the hospital.

_"Where you been, Jessie?"_

_"Mind your business."_

_"I heard you stabbed some bitch in the girl's bathroom at school." _

_"They're talking about me in Middle School now?"_

_"Fuck off. I don't even go."_

_"Well, then, you'll be stuck here forever then. I hope you like it."_

She took another drag, and flicked the ash into the toilet. How did she get stuck there forever? She did stab that girl, and she didn't regret it, still. They were shooting dice in the girl's room during English class – it was supposed to be good fun. But she cheated her. The skin was barely broken, but they sent her to Escovido for six months anyway. It wasn't the worst place in the world. She was told she could do anything she wanted – even go to college. They helped her plan for it. Even when she was back at PS 112, they helped her apply for scholarships and financial aid. They were good people. She was accepted to Tech because of them. It was Billy's idea, of all people, for her to take classes in Criminal Justice. He wanted to know how cops think. They were together by then. You can only tease a boy for so long before something happens.

She'd only wanted to learn business skills, and maybe open a nail salon. She looked at her stubby, unpolished nails. All she'd wanted to do was paint nails pretty. But she got caught up in it. By the time she graduated, she had a CJ degree and was heading for the Academy, with a drug dealer boyfriend. She assured him she would work both sides. He assured her that if she betrayed him on the Force, she'd wind up at the bottom of the river, just like Baker said.

Over the years, her relationship with Billy changed. He cheated on her, of course, any chance he got. Their arrangement never changed. She worked for him, and she worked for Bones. The Force was the bottom rung, the least consequential part of her life, even when she made Detective. She requested the Gang beat of course, and she got it. Billy was always there, a jerk of a boyfriend, but not bad as a source of occasional physical comfort. She was always caught off guard when nice men approached her. She didn't mind cheating on Billy – it wasn't even cheating after a point. But what would they think when they saw the marks of her past – that's what she'd call them – on her body? The girls Billy hooked up with probably didn't blink an eye at the sight of _Jessie_ on his stomach. An obsolete tribute to an ex-girl. They weren't half wrong about that. It meant nothing to her.

She dropped the cigarette butt into the toilet. She had a day off the next day, and she planned to sleep through most of it. Then she had to face that devastated, desperate man, Nick Hume, and sit by as Behring told him, wrongly, that his only option was to slap Joe Darley on the wrist. It wasn't something she looked forward to. There was no telling what Hume might do.


	5. Chapter 5

The courthouse was always cold. It was especially cold today, the day of Joe Darley's hearing. Wallis looked at her watch. Nick would be back any minute.

Nick Hume looked like any suburban family man, well-off and well dressed. She saw him approach, and prepared herself. He had been furious at Behring's suggestion of offering a deal earlier in the day. The suggestion that his son's murder had been a gang initiation was new to him, and it seemed to set him off, to another level. She wished she had told Behring to keep him under the impression that it was a robbery – "for his own mental health" – but Behring, for all his faults and weaknesses, wasn't a liar.

"Detective," Nick said, extending his hand. She grasped it, in a feigned show of respect. "I just need to know... is there _nothing_ we can do to put this kid away for more than a couple of years?"

She gave him a sympathetic look. "It's the system," she said. "It's difficult to prove -"

"I saw him kill my son," Nick said. "I saw him. This is insanity."

"You have to let the system do its job."

Nick bristled. "Maybe the system is wrong," he said. He started to walk away.

"Mr. Hume," she called. He stopped. "You don't want to make this into a bigger mess than it already is."

He turned his back to her, and made his way up the steps into the courthouse.

--

Wallis sat in the courtroom, unable to move.

_Dismissed._

Bumstead, the Public Defender, clapped Joe Darley on the back. Her gaze turned to Behring, as if in slow motion. He stood in genuine shock. On to Nick Hume, who turned to look back at her. His eyes were hard, and filled with hate. She locked on to him. _What are you doing?_

"Goddamit, Jessica!"

She jumped. Behring was right in her face. She hadn't seen him coming.

"Do you realize how badly this backfired?"

"You told him he didn't have any choice," she said.

"Because of _you_," he said.

"Look," she said, "if he can't be sure Darley's the killer, you'd have no case if it went to trial."

Behring shook his head, astounded. "This wasn't a guy who wasn't sure. _You_ told me the case was unwinnable in court. What did you know? What is this guy playing?"

"I don't know," she said, getting up. "I don't know."

"A killer..." Behring looked at Joe Darley as he passed with the bailiff. "A cold-blooded killer -"

Joe smirked at him, and nodded at her. She looked away.

"-is back on the streets now."

"As if three to five would have made any goddam difference, Michael," she said, and pushed past him. She needed a cigarette.

She fumbled with her purse in the lobby. Joe – a free man now, walked out of the holding cell area by himself. He paused as he passed by her.

"'Detective,'" he said.

She stuck an unilt cigarette between her lips.

"Asshole," she replied.

He smiled, and headed for the exit.

She sighed and shook her head. She followed Joe's path to the doors, and pushed one open, her lighter ready to go. As soon as the cold air hit her, she heard the familiar roar of tricked out engines. She pulled the door shut, and watched from inside, yanking the cigarette from her lips.

"That was quick," she said to herself, watching the distinctly customized cars pull up. The boys piled out of them, all familiar to her. Bodie and Heco, Jamie... they cheered and gloated, right on the steps.

Then Billy appeared. She narrowed her eyes as he smiled at Joe, patted him on the back with pride.

_You're nice to your brother when he makes you feel like a big man_, she thought. He was transparent, that Billy.

He was also in a good mood, it was clear. She opened her phone and typed in a one-word message: "2nite." She sent it, and watched as the cars sped away.

She never did notice that Nick was watching, too.


	6. Chapter 6

Wallis was late. She felt exhausted, but energized. It had been a good night. She couldn't remember the last time Billy had been in such a good mood. She'd warned him that the dismissal of the charges against Joe wasn't a cause for celebration, they would need to watch their backs, but in the end, she enjoyed herself for the first time in a long time. She looked forward to moving on, now that the Hume case had been dismissed. Billy had called her paranoid. Maybe she was.

"You're late," Baker said, stepping out of his office to follow her.

"I'm late," she said. "So what?"

"You're late because...?"

She stopped, and turned to him. "None of your business." She switched her bag from one shoulder to another. "OK, go ahead, say it. I dropped the ball. Joe Darley is free."

"I wasn't going to say anything like that," he said. He studied her demeanor. "Joe Darley is dead."

Her initial instinct was to laugh. It wasn't possible – Joe hadn't even been free for a day. "What?"

"Hey," Baker said, "If this was your plan, I can't say I'm entirely against it."

She thought for a moment. "Joe Darley is dead." It wasn't a question.

"Some kids found him in a pool of his own blood in the projects, stabbed in the gut."

She swallowed hard, thinking. "Nick Hume," she said. "Has anyone informed Nick Hume?"

"Hume's your case, remember?"

She nodded. "Right." She turned around, and headed back toward to door.

Baker grabbed her by the arm. "Wallis," he said. "If he did it, you will go through the proper procedures."

"Why do you think he did it?" she asked. "I grew up in those Projects. Kids get stuck there all the time." She pulled away from him and walked away.

She looked over her shoulder. "Don't jump to conclusions."

--

By late afternoon, Wallis knew she couldn't put off calling Billy any longer. He knew about his brother's death by now, she was sure. She was also sure by now that Nick Hume was the killer. During her visit with him that morning, he seemed different. Still broken, but somewhat complacent. He hardly seemed shocked at the news, and was mostly interested in if there were any suspects. He appeared visibly relieved when she told him that it was being investigated as a gang attack.

Then there was his hand. Bloody and bandaged.

None of this was proof. But it was enough to convince her. She could attempt to have him arrested, she thought. Even Baker suspected him of doing it. But they didn't have enough evidence.

As far as she was concerned, though, Hume had committed blood for blood, something that was second nature in the dark underworld that he – even in his darkest of hours – was far removed from. He had foolishly gotten himself into something he didn't understand. According to the law of the street, he would die.

She dialed Billy's number.

"Billy," she said, after a few moments.

She paused in long silence.

"Yes," she said finally. "I know."

She closed the phone. Billy had figured it out without her.

"An eyewitness at the scene..." she said to herself. This changed things. Nick could be taken care of by law enforcement. But not if Billy got to him first.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a beautiful day, a nice change from the bleakness that had clouded the days before. She'd spent most of the day staring out the window. She hadn't been able get get ahold of Billy since he told her what she already knew: Nick Hume had killed his brother Joe. The sister of one of his boys had seen him at the scene. It all fit together.

She considered talking to Detective Baker about obtaining an arrest warrant for Hume. She could tell him she found out about the witness via an anonymous tip. The tipline was always full of messages that she was supposed to follow up on, but rarely did. If she did that, she might earn Baker's trust, and get Hume put away at the same time. He wouldn't get much time. She couldn't push for a First Degree Murder charge for Hume without outing herself, after everything that had happened with Joe's plea bargain and dismissal. She had some sympathy for Hume. Jail was the safest place for him now.

She looked at the crime scene photos of Joe. He had been a basically a good kid, more of a smartass than anything else. He was what the guidance counselors at Escovido would call a "Potential." Joe never went to a youth detention center. He'd been picked up on petty little crimes like vandalism growing up, but he had never committed a violent crime before the initiation, that she knew of. Billy didn't even want him to join the gang, at first. He wasn't hard enough. Not everyone had to kill to be included, but Joe didn't have the street record to be considered, aside from his family ties. If he had been let in without a harsh initiation, Billy would have been seen as weak, and he couldn't have that.

She looked at her watch. It was after five. She'd managed to get nothing done all day.

-

The commotion outside her office was sudden and urgent-sounding. She rushed out to see what what happening.

The Chief spoke in a frenzied voice into the telephone, as Officers bolted past her like Minutemen, their handcuffs jangling from their belts.

"No! lock down the whole area!"

Wallis grabbed a young Officer as he passed. "What's going on?"

"Shooting downtown, by 1900 Market," he said.

"What?" She turned, to see Baker standing behind her. "1900... that's Hume's building."

"I know," he said. "Think he finally flipped out?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don't know."

The reports from dispatch were coming in fast.

"_No injuries at this location,_" a female voice stated. "_Suspects on foot... heading towards 1801..._"

"How many suspects?" Wallis asked aloud, then lifted the receiver, and repeated the question. "How many suspects?"

"_Uhhh... don't have a firm number on that yet... we have an African-American male... witnesses say a black male..._"

"Black?" Baker said.

"_Several... Caucasion or Hispanic males..._"

Her heart sank.

"What's 1801?" Baker asked. "Is that the bank?"

She thought for a moment."No," she said. "The parking garage."

He nodded. "I'll drive."

--

Wallis knelt beside a CSI Officer, a young man named Wright.

"A car falls off the roof with with a man inside with the seatbelt wrapped around his fucking neck. This is insane," he said, examining the crushed car.

"His name's Tommy Del Rio," she said.

He turned to her. "You know this guy?"

"We've had run-ins with him before." She pointed towards his bashed-in skull. "The tattoo on his face is distinctive. He's not hard to identify." She swallowed hard.

"So... you think this Del Rio guy was being chased by... who? Was this a gang thing? In the middle of downtown?"

"It looks like it," she said.

"Jesus," Wright said. "This city is going to hell."

She stood up, and looked up towards the roof. Officers were gathered there, assessing the scene, interviewing witnesses. Baker was up there, somewhere. She had to gather her thoughts before she spoke to him.

She ducked into a stall in the garage's deserted ladies room and heaved. Nothing came out. She hadn't eaten all day. She knelt there until her body stopped shaking and the tears stopped flowing. It took longer than she would have liked.

She splashed cold water on her face, glad that she didn't wear makeup as a cop. Composed, she walked out, ready to face them.

She was sure of one thing: Nick Hume wasn't going to jail. Nick Hume was going to die.


	8. Chapter 8

Billy stood looking out of the window in his rat-hole of a room. The night was clear and calm. Strange, that the night could be so calm, when the world had gone to shit.

She knew when not to speak to Billy. This was one of those times. She watched him for a long time, motionless, until finally she took two bills out of her purse and set them on the table beside him.

"For Joey," she said.

He flinched, and nodded.

"I'm gonna go."

"Don't."

She sighed. "You need to be alone."

"I don't."

She stood beside him, and watched the night.

"We'll get outta here," he said, his voice little more than a rasp.

"No we won't."

He turned and looked at her. She didn't look back.

"Well, I'd like to get the fuck out," he said. "Not until we kill them, though." He paused, and took a drag of his cigarette. "Not just that asshole, but the wife and the other kid, too."

She nodded, and looked at him.

"You're going to lead us there," he said. "You're going to make sure there's no cops, no nothing to stop us from going in there and getting rid of them."

"Right."

"You got the stomach for that?"

"I got the stomach for it."

"Yeah?" He grinned lightly. "That's my girl."

Whether she liked it or not, at that moment, she was, to the core.


	9. Chapter 9

The SUV Jamie had boosted fit right in, driving through the upper-middle class neighborhood where the Humes lived. It had tinted windows, and seated seven. Convenient.

Wallis sat in the driver's seat, and turned to Billy, beside her.

"It's that house up ahead," she said. "The one with the squad car outside."

"I can probably make that shot," he said, pulling his pistol out of his pocket.

She put her hand on the gun. "No," she said. "I'll take care of them."

He looked at her, and nodded.

Wallis paused. "Billy," she said, "you know, that little boy, he didn't do anything."

"Blood for blood," Baggy said from the back seat.

"Don't get soft on me, Jessie," Billy said. "He took Joey, and he took Tommy. He fucked with my family -"

"He's a child," she said. She could still see Lucas, standing on the staircase, watching as she put on a show for his father in the living room.

"Oh, so you want we should kill his parents in front of him?" Billy asked. "That's goldenhearted, Jess."

She sighed.

"It's all or nothing, Jess."

"I can have him put away for killing Joey and Tommy," she said.

"That's not good enough, Jessie, come on," Billy said. "You said you were in."

"You said you were in," Bodie said from the back.

"Shut up, Bodie," Billy said. "Are you in?" he asked. "We're here."

Wallis paused. "I'm in."

"That's my baby," Billy said, turning to the boys with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't call me baby," she said. "Look, don't do anything until I give you the signal."

Billy shrugged and nodded. "Just give us the signal."

--

The officers saw her as she approached the car.

"Detective Wallis," one of them said, "what are you doing here? Is there a problem?"

"No problem," she said. "Just checking in." She smiled.

They looked at each other.

"It's two A.M.," he said. "We've got everything under control."

"I can see that," she said. She flipped open a butterfly knife just below the rolled-down passenger window.

"Detective," the Officer said, just before she slashed their throats, quick and clean. She stepped back. She had never killed anyone before.

She turned, and gave the signal.


	10. Chapter 10

She opened her eyes, disappointed that she was waking up in his rat-hole of a room. That meant it hadn't been a dream.

Her mind replayed everything that had happened the night before. What she'd done. It didn't seem real.

She looked at Billy. When he was sleeping, he didn't look like a monster. She imagined he was a decent man, a good husband and father. Over the years, he had gotten her pregnant three times. The first two had been aborted. It was what he had wanted, but he didn't have to twist her arm. The third time, they'd planned to keep it, but she'd miscarried, confirming her belief that they were all better off not being born. She thought of her children often. She imagined they were sleeping soundly in their beds, and she was waking up in another place, a nice place, without the death, and drugs, and all that shit. It was oddly comforting.

But it wasn't real. He was a monster. And so was she.

She pulled herself out of bed, and started dressing.

Billy stirred, waking. "What are you doing?" he asked, half asleep.

"I have work today," she said, buttoning her blouse.

He opened one eye, and set it on her. "Work?" he asked.

"Yes, Billy, I have to go to work."

He stretched, and sat up. "I thought we were getting outta here."

"I thought we didn't have enough money yet," she said. "What are you going to do, light-bag Bones again? He'll kill you."

"I don't light-bag him, Jesus," he said.

"I can't disappear today," she said. "Not today, after what happened last night."

"Nobody fucking suspects you," he said.

"No, actually, Billy, they do."

Billy's demeanor hardened. "Who?"

She sighed. "Nobody."

"Who suspects you?" He asked. "I'll fucking kill whoever -"

"You're not going to kill anyone," she said. "The killing is over, OK? You got your blood for blood, it's over."

He sat silently for a few moments. "I'm just saying, I'll fucking kill them." He grabbed his cigarettes from the table by the bed and lit one up.

"That's very sweet," she said lightly, only half sarcastic, putting on her shoes.

"I hate that," he said, motioning his cigarette towards her. "You look like some kind of -"

"I have to dress this way," she said, cutting him off.

"You're not one of them," he said. He flicked his cigarette ash onto the floor. "I hate that."

"I know you do," she said, straightening up. She looked like a Detective again. She sat on the bed, and touched his arm. "I want you to eat something today," she said.

"Yeah, I will," he said. He stubbed out his cigarette and looked at her. "We'll have the money by the weekend," he said.

"Until then," she said, "everything stays the same."

--

She walked into the precinct, her chest tight. _They can't tell, _she thought. _They don't know what I've done._

She wondered if they could smell him on her. She could.

Chief Daly approached her. "Wallis, you're here," he said. "We have a very serious situation. I haven't been able to get ahold of you."

She wasn't stupid enough to leave her work cell phone on when she was on the wrong side of town. "What is it?" she asked.

"A massacre," he said, barely hiding his emotion. "Wolfe and Slate were killed in their car last night," he said.

"What?"

"It gets worse," he said, composing himself. "The Hume family. They were attacked, execution style."

"But... how?" she asked, desperation in her voice. She had been practicing this moment in her mind since the day before.

He shook his head. "We didn't anticipate -"

"That family never should have been left there in the house, with a credible threat against their lives," she said, in feigned anger.

"No," he said. "I need you to go to the hospital."

"To identify the bodies."

"To identify Mrs. Hume," he said. "Somehow – it's a miracle, but somehow, the father and son are still alive."

She froze. This, she hadn't anticipated.

"That's... quite a miracle," she said.


	11. Chapter 11

Nick being alive wasn't good. Billy would lose it when he found out. It wasn't her fault. She had done her job - Wolfe and Stark were dead. Still, she didn't want him to know. She would take care of Hume.

For three days, she had played this game. She went to work, to keep up appearances. She and Billy would be in Mexico soon.

It took her hours to get home, which, for the last few days, had been with Billy. She couldn't stand being alone in her own apartment, she needed to be where she didn't have to pretend so much, where she had someone to talk to and could be herself, as much as herself disgusted her. She went as roundabout as possible, changing her appearance from stop to stop.

She applied her makeup in a subway rest room. Her skirt and blouse were rolled up in her bag, replaced by black jeans and one of her regular tops. It was like a reverse disguise, and it made her feel much less tense. Billy loved it. She hardly ever did herself up anymore, as much as she liked to herself.

A young girl, about seventeen, exited a stall, and eyed her up. She looked at herself in the mirror next to her and pulled out an cheap eyeliner pencil. On her neck the name "Dante" was tattooed. Jessica knew who he was, a B-Street runt. She was a gang girl, too, but a rival one.

The girl gave her a hard look in the mirror, then looked down at the cosmetics on the sink in front of her.

"You work for MAC?" the girl asked.

"What?" Jessica looked down. She was using top-of-the-line makeup. She didn't have a lot of extra money. Most of it, even her Detective pay, went back into underworld dealings and bribes. The makeup was her one luxury, and she bought way too much of it, even though she didn't wear it most of the time.

"No," she said.

"Oh," the girl said. "That shit's expensive... hard to steal, too, unless you work for them. My old man won't give me enough to buy it."

Jessica paused, and picked up the the pencils, tubes, and shadow compacts. She looked at the girl and shrugged. "I don't even like it," she said. "You can have it if you want." She held it out to her.

"For real?" The girl said, wide-eyed. Her expression turned suspicious, as she eyed the tattoos on Jessica's arms that identified her as a rival. "Why would you give that to me?"

Jessica handed them to her. "I can always get more. My sister works for them."

"But -"

"Look, honey," she said. "I been around for a long time. I don't care who your man is. Life is too short."

The girl looked at the unexpected gift, then at Jessica. "How long?"

Jessica pulled her hair up. "Forever," she said.

The girl grabbed a paper towel and started rubbing off her dollar store makeup. Her fingernails were long and ornate.

"Who does your nails?" Jessica asked.

The girl put down the paper towel and splayed her fingers out for her to see. "I do them myself," she said. She wiggled her index finger. "This one took me three hours."

"Seriously?" Jessica said. "That's your own design?"

The girl nodded proudly.

"You should go into business or something."

"Nah," she said, shrugging.

"No, I mean it." She really did.

The girl looked at Jessica's plain nails. "Maybe I could do yours sometime," she said enthusiastically. Then she paused, remembering the rivalry. "Or... maybe that's not a good idea..."

"I guess not," Jessica said. "I mean it, though, you should go into business. Then you could buy all the MAC you want."

She wrinkled her nose. "I couldn't."

Jessica picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "You can do anything you want, honey," she said. The girl's expression suggested that no one had ever told her that before. She moved past her quickly and out the door. She didn't want the girl to see her cry.


	12. Chapter 12

She sat in the hospital hallway, a Detective again, as Nick had his time alone with Lucas. She probably shouldn't have let him alone, but he was too injured to do much, she thought.

She had given her best performance, even throwing something in about her father being a cop for good measure, an anecdote that had really come from her good-for-nothing deceased brother, the last time he was shot. Hume would never know. He wasn't Detective Baker, with his folder on her past.

She looked down the long corridor. There was no way she could finish the job there, in the hospital. She sighed.

Nick was taking a long time. Too long. She got up. The reunion was over.

"Nick," she said, opening the door. No response.

"Nick?"

She looked at Lucas, lying still in his hospital bed. She scanned the room. An open window. Her heart stopped.

He was gone.

--

Wallis gathered her things in her office. She wasn't sure she'd ever be coming back.

If Nick had any ideas about going after Billy and had half a brain, he'd go to the Four Roses first. Billy had foolishly given him the pay phone number there, thinking it was untraceable. Almost anyone he'd find there who wasn't one of Billy's boys could be bought off for info on him. If Baker had known about the Four Roses, she'd have been screwed.

She checked the magazine of her handgun – her personal 9mm Glock, not the Police issue in her holster. Fully loaded.

Detective Baker appeared at her door. She jumped. He was the last person she wanted to see.

"It's incredible to me," he said, "that once again, there's no evidence at the scene."

"You think those guys are stupid enough to leave their weapons at the scene?" she asked.

"No," he said. "But it doesn't matter. Billy Darley threatened the family with death yesterday." He paused. "He called you, didn't he?"

"Hume?" she asked. "You know he did."

"He trusted you."

She looked at him. "He had no reason not to."

He stepped towards her. "Let me ask you something," he said. "Did you fuck Darley after he shot those people in their own home?"

Wallis stared at him, speechless. Then she laughed. A long, real laugh. She went to her desk, and opened up the word processor on her computer.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She didn't look at him. "I'm drafting a complaint against you for sexual harassment."

Baker was astonished. "Is this a game to you?"

"No, it's not a -"

"_People are dying_."

She looked at him. "Yes, people are dying," she said. "You didn't even know them."

"Are you talking about the Humes or those two scumbags?" he asked.

She stood up. "You didn't know the Humes like I did," she said.

"So this is all personal to you? Is that what you're saying? Jesus, Wallis, you're a cop, don't tell me I have to be their best friends to give a shit about what happens to them."

"I don't have time for this," she said. She picked up her bag.

Baker grabbed her arm. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going home."

"The home you haven't been to all week?"

She stared at him. "I've been staying at my mother's," she lied. "She's sick, not that you care -"

"Bullshit you have been. You're going to warn your boy Billy Darley that Hume is after him."

"I hardly know Billy Darley," she said. "He's an old case. Prove that he's any more than that."

He hesitated. "I can't prove it," he said. "God, you're a smart cop. If you actually used that to help good people instead of that garbage -"

She flinched.

"See?" he said, leaning towards her. "If I could take that look and put it in a bottle, I'd have my case against you."

She composed herself. "I wasn't going to go to Darley. I was going to find Hume... he's injured."

"We've got officers looking for him."

"They don't know where to look," she said. "I have to go."

"You're not going anywhere," he said. "I can play games, too. If you're not about to go to Darley, then don't. Stay right here. Or I will take you home, and make sure you don't contact anyone."

"You don't have the right to do that," she said.

"We're off the books now," he said."You're not going anywhere."


	13. Chapter 13

Baker opened his eyes. He must have drifted off. His standoff with Wallis had gone on for hours, neither willing to budge. He looked around. Wallis, no surprise, had left.

"Baker." Officer Wright stood at the door. "Where is Wallis?"

He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know."

"Well, there's been another shooting," Wright said. "A big one, out in gangland this time. I'm on my way now."

"I'm coming with you," Baker said.

--

They walked through the lab slowly, their flashlights scanning the scene. They'd found three bodies so far, one in a wrecked van, another on the ground outside, and a third dead from shotgun blasts to the chest.

"There's another one," Wright said, his light stopping on a white male, nearly blown to bits.

"This is insane," Baker said. The place smelled like meth and blood and death. "I don't think we're going to find any survivors."

"Me neither," Wright said.

They continued on, towards the the next room. Wright's light hit a fifth body, a black male.

"Jesus," Wright said. "Right between the eyes."

Baker looked into the room, and he saw him. "I think," he said, "this is the big dog over here."

They approached him, guns ready. He'd been shot dead in the head, point blank.

"It's him," Baker said. "That's Billy Darley."

"Yeah?" Wright said. "The big guy?"

Baker nodded. "The second biggest, anyway."

Wright bent over the body, inspecting it. "The body's been handled since he died," he said.

"What?" Baker said, leaning over to look. "How can you tell?"

"The blood spatter," Wright said, motioning. "See, he was shot here." He demonstrated. "And he fell over this way. See the blood?"

Baker nodded.

"Someone sat him up," Wright said. "The blood on his face, someone touched it after he died. You can see the smear. See?"

"I see," Baker said.

"And then... I can't be sure about this till we get him into the Examiner's office, but I think his eyes were closed."

Baker looked at him.

"Someone closed his eyes," Wright said.

Baker straightened up. "You think the killer did that?"

"Maybe," Wright said. "But it's weird... the others aren't like that."

Baker turned, and scanned his light around the room.

"Heh, Well," Wright said, behind him, "'Jessie' isn't going to be too happy."

Baker spun around. "What did you say?"

"Eh, it's probably nothing, an old tattoo," Wright said. He held Billy's shirt up with his gun.

Baker knelt down beside him and looked at it. "Son of a bitch," he said. "Jessie..."

"Who's Jessie?" Wright asked.

Baker stood up, lost in thought. "Hume," he said. "We have to find Nick Hume."

--

Baker ran into the Hume house, still a crime scene. Wallis was there, just as he'd expected. She stood in front of Hume, sitting on the couch, a gun pointed at his head.

He pointed his pistol at her. "Drop the gun," he ordered.

She turned to him slowly.

"Drop the fucking gun, Jessica," he said.

She lowered her arm and released the gun. It hit the floor. "He's already dead," she said.

"Jessie," Baker said, still in an offensive position, "is that what he called you?"

"You killed him," she said. "I could have saved him."

Baker's eyes widened. "Are you talking about Darley or Hume?"

She stood, motionless, without a word.

"Are you talking about Darley or Hume?"

"You can't understand, Baker," she said. "He was all I had."

"Say you're talking about Billy."

She shook her head slowly. "Just do it, Baker," she said. "Shoot me."

"I don't want to shoot you, Jessica," he said. "I just want the truth."

"I want you to shoot me," she said.

"You saw Billy's dead body," Baker said. "You were too late. You held him, didn't you?"

She shook her head.

"You closed his eyes, one last time."

She began to shake. Her legs gave out, as she knelt to the floor, sobbing.

"You loved him," he said, moving closer to her.

She caught her breath, and looked up at him. "He was the only thing I ever did," she said.

He nodded, and lowered his gun.

"I'm not going to kill you, Jessie," he said gently. "I'm not like you. I'm a good cop." He pulled his handcuffs from his belt.

She didn't resist.

-

-

-END-


End file.
